Cyrus stood as soon as the door opened, but Andie stayed seated on the sofa where he’d been sitting. He was still wearing black, but Thessaly saw him take in her dress and nod once, before coming over to offer his hand. “Glad you could come. We thought you might want to get out of the house somewhere, ahem, a little friendlier than some places? Though I am presuming on our school days.” He nodded at his sister. “Andie has an evening shift tonight, but if you’d rather she not join us, I can banish her upstairs. Or attempt to.”
The way he put it - slightly beleaguered, but affectionate - made Thessaly laugh. “No, please stay, Andie. I admit, I’m curious about the proximal cause of the invitation, but it is perhaps a little nice to see different people.”
“There, take that chair, or that one, whichever you prefer. And we’ve tea and biscuits— orange. They’re one of our cook’s specialties.” Cyrus hesitated, as if weighing something. “Hereswith has become quite fond of them already, if that gives you a measure.”
That made Thessaly’s eyes widen; she didn’t try to hide or mute her reaction. “Oh, of course she’d have talked to you.”
“Multiple times, in fact. Weekly. But the first time was a few days after the Challenge, because everything had been, well...” His voice trailed off, cautiously.
“Awful and complicated, and I’m sure she was trying to keep a dozen crumbling magics working, despite the frailties ofhumankind,” Thessaly said. “I’m quite fond of her. And Cousin Owain, too, to put my loyalties out plainly. And they’ve both been thoughtful with me. Before and since.”
Something about how she said it made Cyrus relax minutely. “I’m glad to hear it. I like them both, so far. And Oscar’s been a tremendous help, as well. Several of the others.” He settled himself again on the sofa. “Gemma’s up with her nanny, but if you honestly would like to see her, we can have her come down later.”
“You needn’t pretend if you’re not fond of small children. Or other people’s small children,” Andie said, waving a hand. “Mind, we are both entirely biassed when it comes to Gemma, but we recognise not everyone is for some odd reason.”
Thessaly contemplated, trying to decide what to do with this conversation. “I honestly don’t have a wide experience to draw on, outside the more extended family and my own sister. But I liked her quite well when she was small. Admittedly, there is also a bias there.” She cleared her throat. “May I ask why the invitation, here and now?” It was blunt, far too blunt for the usual run of Fox House. But she was too tired or too made of nerves or too something she couldn’t name to dance around the topic for too long. Too long out of polite society, even if it had only been six and a half weeks since the Challenge.
Brother and sister engaged a look, and then it was Andie who spoke. “First, because from what Cyrus told me after the funeral, it seemed like you could use some kindness. Second, there is some gossip you should know. And we were...” She gathered herself. “We were not entirely sure anyone else would pass it along. And third, Cyrus would very much like to chat with someone else who knows the Council at least a bit, and who is not entirely intimidated by them. I am not particularly intimidated by them, but I also do not know their personalities.”
“Ah, so the first two are a trade for the third. That’s manageable, yes.”
It made Cyrus chuckle. “That makes you feel more at ease, does it? Have people been giving you a hard time, then? I don’t actually know much about where you’ve been spending your days, actually. Talking to Andie about it after the funeral made it clear. And we weren’t close at school, certainly not allies, but— circumstances change.”
They did. Thessaly tilted her head. “I still don’t think you’ll give me much of a challenge, duelling?”
“That has not changed. No, I feel sure. And that’s something you’ve done less of, at the moment?” He offered it a little cautiously, as if concerned some charm would come winging out of the corner to attack him at any moment. It would not be because of Thessaly, not right now. For one thing, she was still feeling out the situation. “I got the impression that you had been rather firmly pulled into the Fortier circles. Only then there was what you said at the funeral, and I am no longer certain how to weigh most of what I know.”
“Ah.” Thessaly glanced from one to the other. “In confidence, as—” She couldn’t quite fill in the next word. Not allies, not friends, not yet, anyway.
Andie offered, “As people with mutual interests and an understanding of grief in various forms. And,” she glanced at her brother, “a desire to make our own way in the world, even if our families disapprove.”
“Your parents disapprove?” Thessaly said it more to Cyrus than to Andie, but then she blinked at Andie as well.
“Our parents do not understand our desires, no.” Cyrus’s voice was measured, and Thessaly understood, suddenly, how someone her age could thrive on the Council, given a little encouragement. He had dignity to him, and depth, undeniable gravitas. All the things Childeric had lacked. “And I certainlyunderstand the pressure to marry. Again, in my case. That’s one piece of the gossip, though quieter at the moment than it will probably be in the future.”
Thessaly winced. “Yes.” She glanced down at her hands, considering. Thessaly was not a gifted strategist with people, not like Magistra Hereswith was, or Aunt Metaia had been. She wasn’t even as good as Cousin Owain, who admitted himself not at their level. But if Magistra Hereswith had been here, multiple times, that implied things about a network of trust. “Lady Maylis asked, a fortnight ago, if I’d consider transferring the marriage agreements to Sigbert. I did not decline outright. I said I’d think about it.” Then she admitted what she hadn’t quite managed to say out loud until now. “I did not entirely feel safe declining.”
Andie leaned forward a little. “Is it a distaste for Sigbert, or a preference elsewhere, or— both?” Thessaly was not veiled, of course. And as good as she was at keeping her composure, Thessaly supposed there was something in her expression. “Both. You needn’t tell us, if you’d rather not.”
Cyrus followed up immediately. “If I can offer any protection, I would be glad to discuss that.” Not offer it without reservation, but that was a more than generous gift as it was. “Hereswith mentioned that your Aunt had had some concerns about your marriage, when I asked the general state of things. After the funeral.”
Thessaly nodded. “I made the agreements with Childeric— well, our families did. I agreed to the terms thinking we’d have a cordial marriage. We’d have the obligatory children. He’d let me have my own life, a lover if I wished and did it with sufficient discretion. It became increasingly clear he didn’t intend to keep those agreements, and it got worse after Aunt Metaia’s death. He almost struck me once, and he certainly made it clear he’d do his best to destroy anything I cared much about.”
She glanced at both of them, then focused on a spot on the sofa between them. “At the same time, I had got to know Vitus Deschamps. A few years ahead of us, Cyrus, Salmon House, newly done with his apprenticeship as a talisman maker.” Now she had to avoid looking at them. She would give far too much away. “Childeric took offence, even though we’d not done anything against the agreements. I still haven’t, though we have talked about doing some more when we get a proper opportunity. He’s very busy.”
“Deschamps. I’ve been hearing some excellent commentary about him. I heard that gossip, too, but I paid it no mind. Whatever else, I know you well enough to know you’d be scrupulous about your actual agreements, and honestly, they’re the common set for your sort of family, aren’t they? Other than perhaps the financial arrangements?”
Thessaly just nodded, because that was the truth.
“Well. That’s not on. Nor is, mmm, an artificial separation from someone you have said you like, and who seems like a decent sort from all I know. I ran into Carrington the other day, in Bourne’s.” Thessaly was technically a member, but she’d stopped going in her own right around the time of the betrothal. “He was very clear about his praise for Deschamps.” Then Cyrus’s voice softened. “Besides, these days, I am in favour of people finding love where they can, for as long as they can, even if I can’t.”
The note in his voice at the end made Thessaly look at him, sharply. She caught just enough of a glimpse of Andie doing the same, suggesting it was something Cyrus hadn’t said quite that way before. “Thank you.” Thessaly said, as gently as she could. “I don’t think there’s much anyone can actually do to help. I suppose that brings us to the gossip?”
Cyrus nodded. “There are— well, increasing questions about whether I’ll marry again. Or rather, assuming I will. I ran into Odile and Cosmerance, both, the other day, and they were...”
“They were themselves, and all over your prospects. I had tea with them in early September, and it was rather awful.” Thessaly wrinkled her nose. “Things have been progressively more awful since, the most overwrought letters.” She waved a hand at her dress. “I won’t wear mourning for someone I don’t actually miss, you understand? Not unless it’d be an insult otherwise. It’s a large part of why I’m not leaving Bryn Glas.”
Andie considered that. “He did that much to break your willingness?” She lifted her chin. “We talk about that kind of hurt, in our training, though we haven’t got into the more delicate bits.”
